The Terminal Fate of Garrett Fowler
by morgo7kc
Summary: Ever wonder what happened to Fowler after the events of Point Blank? Peter took care of it. But Satchmo just can't stop digging holes, and Elizabeth is not happy. Kind of a crack!fic.


**A/N: I know I should be working on Dominos, but this got stuck in my head from Jeff Eastin's response to my inquiry about Fowler's whereabouts and valshopaholic's comment about it. I wrote this mostly for myself (my muse loves boredom) but if someone else likes it too, that's just a plus. Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: Me? Own White Collar? I wish…**

**Warning: Slight spoilers for Prisoner's Dilemma, and any episode Fowler was in I guess.  
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**Word Count: 1,148  
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**Happy reading!**

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><p>It was a beautiful Sunday morning. Elizabeth had decided to wake up early, and take a walk around the neighborhood before making breakfast for herself and Peter. When she returned home, Elizabeth went to the backyard to get Satchmo (she'd let him out before she left so he could enjoy the warm weather) and her pleasant mood promptly faded. Satchmo was standing above a deep hole in the middle of the Burkes' backyard, a very familiar hole that El had happily stopped thinking about months ago.<p>

"Peter," she mumbled to herself, annoyed, "you told me Satch wouldn't bother it." With that, Elizabeth stomped noisily back inside, up the stairs, and to her bedroom where she shook her husband awake. Hard.

"El, Elizabeth! What is it?"

"Satchmo dug him up again. I told you he would! I said you should bury him somewhere else but _no_." Peter rubbed his face tiredly and opened his mouth to apologize to his wife, but she shushed him. "Just clean it up, please." Peter rolled over and closed his eyes again.

"Fine, as soon as I get up."

"Peter, now. I'll call Neal and you guys can figure out what to do with the bones that Satch is probably chewing on right now." Elizabeth left no room to argue, and Peter was forced to drag himself out of the bed and to his dresser to change.

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><p>Throughout his life, Neal had probably been woken up more often by a cell phone ringing than an actual alarm clock and everything else combined. Back when Peter was chasing him, the phone call usually meant that the FBI was onto him and Mozzie was giving him the heads up to high-tail it out of whichever hotel or apartment he was currently staying at. Now that he was a consultant, an early morning wake-up call usually meant they had an important case to deal with. But he'd never before received a call quite like the one from his partner's wife at 9AM on his and Peter first day off in over a week.<p>

"Yeah?" The grogginess of his voice definitely reflected how little sleep he had gotten as of late.

"Neal, it's Elizabeth. Satchmo dug Fowler up again. You better get over here quick so you and Peter can deal with this before I lose it." Neal felt like slapping himself in the face. Again? They _really_ had to get that dog to stop digging holes where he shouldn't be.

"Alright. I'll be there in thirty." Elizabeth cleared her throat angrily. "Okay, I'll be there in fifteen." El paused for a moment, thinking.

"Bring Mozzie too. Since you two failed to move it somewhere where the dog wouldn't bother it last time, maybe he can find a solution. I expect you both here in ten minutes." She hung up before Neal could say 'goodbye', and he could already tell today wasn't going to be fun. He sat up in bed and threw a pillow at Mozzie who was still passed out on the couch from a night of Chateau Lafite and Montrachet.

"Moz, get up! We have somewhere to be and I have a feeling Elizabeth won't be very forgiving if we're late."

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><p>Exactly seventeen minutes later ("There was traffic!" Neal had explained to Elizabeth desperately, but that didn't stop her from glaring at him) a tired Peter, a grumpy Neal, and an extremely perturbed Mozzie were standing around the hole that contained the deceased Garrett Fowler.<p>

"Why do _I _have to be here? It's your mess! And I was in the middle of an excellent dream. The president's evil twin brother was about to hand me the access codes to the entire Secret Service database!"

"Mozzie, Elizabeth insisted. She said that since Peter and I couldn't handle it efficiently before, you might know where to put him."

"Why did you have to kill Fowler in the first place? Couldn't you just throw him into one of your top secret, underground prisons or something?" Peter shook his head.

"Too much paperwork." He ignored the sudden glow of pride evident on Mozzie face at getting a Fed to admit that such places indeed existed. "I hate paperwork. What else was I supposed to do with him?"

"Peter's right." Neal turned to his partner. "But did you have to bury him in _your_ backyard? It was bad enough moving him the first time Satch found the bones, but now this is just getting ridiculous." The agent nodded in agreement, and addressed Mozzie.

"We could bring him to one of your hideouts. I believe El's mentioned Monday has a big backyard." The short, be-speckled conspiracy theorist looked appalled by this suggestion.

"NO way! You are NOT tainting another one of my sacred escapes, Suit. Not a chance." Peter looked to Neal hopefully.

"June's is out of the question."

"Well we can't just leave the body here. Satchmo will just find it again." That settled it: they were stumped. Elizabeth, who had been standing by the back door impatiently, waiting for the three men to reach a decision, then grumbled something about women having to do everything and went to fetch some materials from the basement.

When she got back outside carrying a box of matches, gasoline, and a shovel, Peter, Neal and Mozzie were still dumbfounded.

"For God's sakes," she yelled, tossing the items at their feet. "Just cremate him! I'll be in the kitchen making pancakes when you're done." The three exchanged glances as Elizabeth walked back to the house, and nodded approvingly at her thinking.

"Have to give you credit, Suit, you married one smart women. Now who wants to light it?" Peter grabbed back the matches that Mozzie was picking up.

"No way am I letting you play with these, Havershum. _I'll _light it. Neal, you pour on the gasoline. Mozzie, smother the flames with the dirt when it's done burning."

And just like that, their problem was solved. After all enjoying a lovely breakfast provided by El, Mozzie was able to return to his dream, Neal went home to put his phone on silent in order to avoid future annoying wake up calls, Peter caught the end of the basketball game he was missing when dealing with the disaster in the backyard, Elizabeth went on another, longer walk to forget all about the whole incident, and Satchmo had a brand new bone to chew on. Everyone was happy. Well, except Fowler. But nobody really cares about him.

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><p><strong>AN #2: Thanks for reading! If you had a laugh or even cracked a smile, let me know. Otherwise, have a great day! :)**


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